


Sometime After Midnight

by Wishme



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PWP, Spooning, post-hunt shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:58:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishme/pseuds/Wishme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back to the motel after a rough hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometime After Midnight

 

Cas is already asleep when Dean finally exits the bathroom, sprawled across the covers of the single king, clad only in grey boxer briefs. Rubbing the towel through his hair, Dean grins down at the sleeping man, wincing at the twinge of muscle. They'd been worked over hard today, the nest of vamps particularly reluctant to watch their home burn. But they'd taken kids, sets of brothers, and (who knew!) that was a sore spot for the Winchesters.

 

And now the vamps were dead: heads taken and burned, kids returned to their homes. Sam had slid behind the wheel of his crap Toyota, determined to make it back home to his lady. The brothers embraced, Dean promising to call next time a hunt brought them to the area. Not that he looked for cases within a day's drive of Sam somewhat obsessively, of course not. Could you blame a guy for wanting to see his brother? Especially since said brother had finally finished his law degree and was the top performing junior associate at the firm. Dean might be more than a bit proud.

 

Also, the access to legal advice was a nice perk. Not that the Winchesters ran up against the law much these days. Hunts like this happened only occasionally--once every few months, usually during the summer when Cas was on break from teaching classes at Kansas State. But it was nice to get the gang back together.

 

Dean's damp towel lands on Cas's belly, jerking him awake. Blue peeks through slitted eyelids, "Ass," his tone affectionate, if tired, and Dean almost feels bad. Almost.

 

Tossing the towel to the ground, Dean straddles the bare torso, Cas's hands coming up to brush his fingertips over the other man's hip bones. "You did good today."

 

Cas snorts, "I let you get thrown into that wall."

 

A reckless grin covers Dean's face, "Yeah, and not in the fun way."

 

Cas groans and throws his arm over his eyes, "You're terrible. That was a terrible line."

 

He nuzzles the curve of Cas's throat,"Yeah, but you like it."

 

"I do," Cas hums and arches his neck into the caress. And then flips his hips, sending a startled Dean into the mattress, an insistent Cas pressing along his body. Breath ghosts over Dean's temple, "We're not dead. I'm tired. Sex later." And abruptly Cas drops off to sleep, a warm, heavy blanket over the hunter's  still naked form. Dean huffs out a laugh,  amused in spite of his ignored arousal, drags the covers over them both and falls asleep.

 

In his dreams he's lost. Everything is white noise and electricity and Dean can't find his way. Panic surges and then he’s surrounded by warmth. Whimpering, he presses close to the warmth, anchoring himself. It's wet and insistent and Dean breaks into consciousness to find Castiel wrapped around his back, palming his rising cock and pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck. He arches back into the caress. Cas chuckles into his neck before biting down onto one of the tendons. His breath stutters his lover’s name, the mouth attached to his neck curving in satisfaction. The hand on his cock never falters, slick and sure, controlling the movement of his hips. Cas’s own dick slips between Dean’s legs, precum trailing along inner thigh,  hips rolling together in sweet friction. Dean fists the pillow under his head, his other hand sunk into the back of the thigh surging behind him, head thrown back to rest against Cas’s shoulder. “Fuck, Cas.”

Dean’s voice breaking on the syllable of his name draws a growl from Cas urging him forward even faster, his hand insistent, their hips stuttering out of sync. Pressure builds at the base of Dean’s spine and all it takes is Cas’s teeth closing on the juncture of his neck before he comes, gasping, “Cas”. Cas rocks forward, once, twice more before he too breaks, hands convulsing on his lover’s hips. Gasping breaths drown out the dilapidated air conditioner wheezing in the corner. After their chests stop heaving, Dean goes to grab the long-forgotten towel from the floor, but Cas wraps one lean leg around his hips, anchoring him to the bed. He swats at the leg before it gives and he returns to clean them both up. Once done, Cas envelops him once more, his chest up against Dean’s back, legs hopelessly entangled, pressing kisses to the nape of his neck. Dean wiggles in protest, but sinks back against the strong chest. He grabs the hand draped over his side and brings it up to kiss the palm, slotting their fingers together, before pulling it to his chest.


End file.
